


Catch me

by Quicksilvermaid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Headcanon, M/M, Rivalry, quidditch kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 13:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15730026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quicksilvermaid/pseuds/Quicksilvermaid
Summary: So what if Harry and Draco both got picked up by Quidditch teams after Hogwarts.





	Catch me

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a drabble than a fic. I'm keeping a bunch of placeholder stories here to expand on later, so I don't lose them on tumblr.
> 
> Jump over and say hi and hound me to write more if you like haha: [@quicksilvermaid](http://quicksilvermaid.tumblr.com)

Harry just wants to do something he loves instead of something he has to. Being on a broom has always been the best thing he’s ever experienced. 

Draco’s found a team that can look past the mark on his arm and see the skill he has instead. Plus it pisses his father off to no end to having his son _wasting_ his life flying instead of rebuilding the Malfoy name. 

So they work their way up into the A teams and it’s inevitable that they face each other eventually. 

Harry’s always known Malfoy’s a seeker too. And yeah, maybe he’s re-watched the other man’s games slightly obsessively. And yeah maybe he’s noticed Malfoy’s picked up a bunch of new moves. 

And yeah, maybe when they’re standing on the ground, facing each other, brooms in hand, he sees that familiar, burning desire to win in Malfoy’s intense grey eyes, and he feels something stir in his chest in turn. 

He hasn’t had a really good challenge in a long time. 

So when Malfoy’s lips form the familiar words, ‘Scared, Potter?’  
Harry smirks right back at him, ‘You wish.’

The battle between them goes down as one of the most thrilling games in decades. The focus of every person in the stadium is on the two seekers, shooting through the air at breakneck speed, coming up against each other again and again, spiraling and diving and feinting.   
And eventually, when Draco Malfoy catches the snitch, the stands erupt into a wall of noise. Malfoy sinks to the ground, exhausted, triumph radiating through him. 

Harry walks up to him slowly, painfully, exhaustion and exhilaration running through in equal measure. When Malfoy looks up, his face is transparently happy, but then it shutters with uncertainty. 

Harry just reaches out his hand, leaving it hanging between them. Malfoy pushes himself to his feet and they stand, facing each other, grey eyes meeting green, a lifetime of anger and jealousy and misunderstanding spread out between them. 

Then Harry smiles, his joy in the game and the thrill of the flight written all over him. And Draco reaches out, clasping Harry Potter’s hand in his.

\----

And then they start to play each other more often and every time it’s the same level of intensity. But every time it’s the most fun either of them have in the air. 

And sometimes Harry gets the snitch and sometimes Draco does … But it’s not something they rub in each other’s faces anymore. 

And sometimes Harry catches himself watching the sleek and graceful lines of Malfoy’s body as he moves through the air … And sometimes Malfoy catches himself watching the curve of Potter’s arse as he pulls his broom up hard. 

And somehow their back and forth on the pitch, in the air and at press conferences after the game turns from biting and snarky to … Flirty? Still snarky though. 

And then they play a charity game and it’s in a small town and they don’t really have the facilities to be housing international level teams … There’s just the one set of change rooms, but the match is a friendly, so no one minds. 

And Harry’s alone in the change room, freshly showered, stretching out sore muscles. He always stays late after a game - ‘it’s not hiding, I just don’t like crowds.’ And Draco walks in, late after an extended session with the press. 

And he sees Harry, laid out on the bench, naked except for a towel, and he stares. He can’t help himself. The sight of those muscles, that skin, that shaggy black hair, not tame even after a shower. 

And Harry looks up and meets his gaze, and the hunger he sees in it makes him shiver. Draco hesitates, taking a step back towards the door and Harry stands, moving over to him, stepping in close and pushing it shut. 

'Stay,’ he says. 'You must be sore after the game.’

And Draco nods, not taking his eyes off Harry. 

And Harry asks, 'Need some help with that?’ He’s pointing at Draco’s Quidditch robes, dirty from the match. 

And then he steps in close and puts his hands up to the first button. He’s so close now that Draco can feel the heat radiating from his body.   
And Draco whispers, 'Merlin, Potter, what you do to me.’

And then they kiss.

And it’s hot and hard and Harry’s hands are everywhere and Draco’s cupping his arse and the towel’s fallen, but neither of them care. They know where this is going. They’ve been building up to it for months. 

'Fuck you look good like this,’ Harry growls. 'I can’t get you out of my head.’ He’s dropped to his knees and is looking up at Draco as he unlaces his flying pants. 

Draco raises an eyebrow. 'Should have known you’d have a Quidditch kink.’

Harry huffs a laugh as he kisses and sucks at the skin of Draco’s hard stomach.  
'You have no idea.’

Draco quirks an eyebrow at him and then touches two fingers to his robes, whispering something. The colour change spreads through them and suddenly he’s wearing Slytherin green, the robes an exact replica of his Hogwarts ones. 

Harry punches out a moan, 'Fuck, Malfoy.’ And then he swallows him down.

'Fulfilling both our school boy fantasies, then,’ Draco gasps, fingers threading through Harry’s hair. 


End file.
